The Measure of a Heart (10 page)

“You know my thoughts and intent,” Austin said to her. “You know as well as I do what I am trying to say. Tell me. Am I saying it?”

Anna felt strangely honored to be assigned such a task. She also felt dreadfully unworthy.

The new congregation continued to meet together in the schoolhouse, but Anna knew Austin longed for the day when they would have their own little church building.

“It will be difficult for us to really feel we are a real congregation—members of the Body—until we have our own gathering place,” he often told Anna, and Anna nodded, willing to accept his assessment.

He repeated this statement one evening as Anna sat mending worn socks by the light of the kerosene lamp. Austin had been studying at the kitchen table nearby but rose to his feet, pacing back and forth from the window to the chair where Anna sat. She knew he was agitated, but she waited until he was ready to express his feelings. Her needle continued to ply in and out of the wool stocking.

“We need a church,” he said at last as he ran his hand through his heavy dark hair and let his fingers rest on the back of his neck.

Anna waited a moment, then said quietly, “We have a church, Austin.”

He looked at her a moment, then smiled a bit sheepishly as she went on, “But our church does need a place of its own to meet.”

Austin nodded, then said, “But we are so few, with so little. We’ll never manage it.”

“Remember the loaves and fishes,” Anna commented, tipping her head slightly.

Austin chuckled. “The loaves and fishes. I wasn’t planning to feed them, Anna. Just provide them with a place to worship.”

“That’s feeding,” Anna said seriously, not backing down. “Remember what Christ said to Peter, ‘Feed my sheep.’ What you intend is spiritual feeding—and that is even more important than the physical feeding.”

Austin’s chuckle died away and his face too became serious.

“You’re good for me—you know that?” he said with feeling, and he bent and kissed Anna on the top of her head.

Anna continued to mend.

Austin took up his pacing again, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

“So how do we get our hands on these loaves and fishes?” he said, wheeling to face her.

In the short while that they had been married, Anna had come to realize that it was difficult for Austin to be patient. She sensed the agitation in him now—and she admired it because she knew the reason for it. She knew his eagerness to be fruitful in his ministry. She knew how difficult it was to wait for something that he felt was so important to his people. She fervently wished that she had a ready solution. But she continued to sew, calmly, serenely, as she pondered carefully his question.

At last she raised her eyes. “In the case of the loaves and fishes—they were brought to Him,” she said evenly.

“Are you saying—?”

“In other instances, people were told to ‘go and do.’ ”

“So?” said Austin, giving his shoulders an impatient shrug. “Are we to ‘go and do’ or sit idly by and—?”

“We don’t know that yet, do we?” said Anna placidly.

“So we just—?”

“Pray,” filled in Anna. “Pray for direction and ask our little congregation to pray with us.”

For a moment Austin’s frown deepened. He began to pace again.

Anna laid aside a finished sock and reached for another one.

“You think we should share this with the people?” he wondered.

Anna nodded.

“You think they will understand the necessity for a church?”

“It is their church.”

Austin paced a few more steps and swung to face her. Slowly a smile began to spread across his face. He ran his hand through his hair again and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“I’ve been thinking it’s mine, haven’t I?”

“Have you?” said Anna, raising wide eyes to his.

“You know I have,” he said, reaching out to touch her cheek, but there was lightness in his voice again.

“Actually, my statement was just as wrong,” conceded Anna. “It really won’t belong to the congregation either. This is God’s church.”

Austin nodded his head.

“So . . .” he said at last. “If He thinks that a building is needed, I guess He can come up with the loaves and fishes. Right?”

Anna smiled softly. “He might ask us to be involved—a little bit,” she answered. “He did use the lad—and He did put His disciples to work.”

Austin nodded again. The strain had left his face. He crossed the short distance that separated them and knelt by her side, reaching for the hand that held the woolen sock.

“This is going to be tough for me,” he admitted. “I never was long on patience.”

“Yes, I noticed,” Anna teased and squeezed his hand.

Austin smiled and went on. “Promise me you will—will try to hold me in check. I need you, Anna. I need to—to borrow from your strength—your—your wisdom and patience.”

Anna released her needle and thread and ran the fingers of her hand through his hair. She couldn’t understand how strong and able Austin could be seeking to draw from her meager strength—but she knew she would be there for him to the best of her ability.

Though she loved her new life as Austin’s wife, Anna missed her family even more than she had prepared herself for. Her thoughts were continually going back to the farm kitchen where she knew her mother would be bent over a steaming ironing board or a hot kitchen stove. How was she managing to do all of the work alone? It had kept both of them busy from sun-up to sun-down—and even then they often got behind.

She hoped that the growing boys were giving some assistance, but she knew her pa counted on Adam and Horace to help him in the fields. And Will and Alfred were needed for all of the farm chores. That left only Karl and Petey. They were still too young to be given much responsibility.

At times Anna felt overwhelmed by guilt and concern. Had she done the right thing to leave her mother? Wasn’t one to honor one’s parents?

Yet both her father and mother had seemed to feel that she was doing right in accepting Austin’s proposal—both had seemed proud to have their daughter join a man of the cloth.

Anna felt such confusion.

But even as she struggled to try to sort things out in her thinking, she knew if she had stayed at home, had said no to Austin, that she would have been devastated. Now she couldn’t imagine life without him. She loved him with all of her being. She ached to sustain him, to support him, to be helpmate and companion. And yet she felt so inadequate.

Surely the people expected more from a minister’s wife than she would ever be able to give. They were so kind—and so pleasant. But right now they had no church building, no organ, no room for Sunday school classes. When they did have their own place, had a real church service, then they would expect the minister’s wife to take some leadership. Perhaps play the organ, teach classes, organize a woman’s sewing circle.

Anna could not play a note. Had never had her hands on a keyboard. She had never taught Sunday school and had little confidence in her ability as a teacher. And she certainly had never been involved in a sewing circle except to sit in a corner with two or three other children and listen to the ladies talk of local prayer needs when her mama took her along. No, Anna was certainly not in a position to be of much help to Austin in his ministry—and the actuality of a real church building would serve only to draw it to everyone’s attention.

Chapter Nine

Calling

The next Sunday after he had completed his sermon, Austin talked with the congregation about his desire to see them have their own place of worship.

“It doesn’t need to be a fancy building,” he told them,
“but a place that is dedicated strictly to the worship of the Lord. A place where we can have Sunday school classes and Wednesday night prayer meetings. A place our children will view as God’s house—not the schoolhouse. A place where someone can slip in during the stress of the week and kneel at the altar and talk things over with God. A place where we as God’s people can meet with Him.”

He paused and looked at his small flock.

“We need to pray for God’s direction,” Austin went on. For one quick moment he glanced toward Anna and their eyes met.

“We do not want to rush ahead of Him. Not that we could. We do not have the finances—the wherewithal—to do this task on our own. We must have the Lord’s help.

“I’m asking you all to pray. Pray for guidance and direction—and you might ask for a miracle or two.” Austin stopped to smile at his people. “It is going to take more than one miracle if this is to be accomplished.”

Anna felt that his appeal was effective and she knew, because she knew the man, that it was sincere and came from his heart.

The people seemed hesitant to leave after the service. Anna heard excited murmurs on all sides. The idea had caught fire, but the cluster of people buzzing around her seemed to be no nearer a solution to the problem than she or Austin.

In spite of the excitement generated, they left the church with their problem unresolved.

Anna was thoughtful as she walked the boardwalk to their little home down the street. Austin had asked for a few minutes alone. Anna knew he wanted to get started in seeking God’s direction.

Dinner, stew again, was already simmering on the back of the stove, so Anna had little to do to get the meal ready. She wished she could serve fried chicken now and then—or a small piece of roast beef. Then she chided herself for her ingratitude. She should be thankful for the stew. The vegetables had come from the local store. There wasn’t much for variety. And stew was as far as she could make their weekly offerings stretch. Yet they had never gone without.

Help me to be thankful, Father, she prayed in contrition.

But she couldn’t help but wonder if Austin was as tired of stew and soup as she was.

If only I had a garden, she mourned. I could raise my own vegetables. Then I could use the offerings on something else . . . perhaps a bit of meat now and then, or—

“Yoo-hoo!” A shout from across the street interrupted her thoughts.

Old Mrs. Paxton stood waving her cane to attract Anna’s attention. Mrs. Paxton did not attend the church services in the schoolhouse. She was a crotchety, sour woman with a sharp tongue and a mean stick. She used both on local youngsters or bothersome dogs whenever they came within reach.

Anna crossed the street, realizing that it was much easier for her than for the elderly woman to walk the rutted road.

“Hear you’re planning on a new church.” The woman’s words assailed Anna before she had even reached the sidewalk.

Anna nodded, her smile fading slightly, wondering how the news had traveled so quickly.

“We are praying about it,” she said evenly.

“Too uppity for the schoolhouse, I take it,” the woman accused.

Anna wished that she could have ignored the call and had not bothered to cross the street.

“No, not too uppity at all,” she answered as courteously as she could. “We just feel it would be better for the people—for the children—if we had our own building so that we could—could have Sunday school classes and—”

“Went to Sunday school when I was a child,” the woman hissed. “Never helped me any.”

“I’m sorry,” whispered Anna.